Scientifically
by lostinwriting23
Summary: "If he'd just bloody wake up, I'd know how to fix this. He's just being stupid and stubborn like always and I can't..." Skye didn't realize Simmons was crying until a sob cut out the middle of her sentence." Skye/Simmons friendship and FitzSimmons post-finale


I haven't written in a really long time. Like. Forever. I've missed it. I've also never written SHIELD so this'll be interesting. I hope everyone's characterized alright but if I'm off, please let me know! I realize everyone and their brother has probably written a post finale fic but. This just wouldn't shut up in my head and so I thought I'd share. I would LOVE to hear what you think!

Thanks!

M

I'm just writing for fun, plain and simple. Just borrowing Joss Whedon's beautiful characters.

XXX

**Scientifically**

XXX

"She's been at it for like four days straight," Skye muttered, gnawing on a thumbnail and pacing outside the lab, "I mean, has she left the lab for more than a bathroom break?"

"Not that I've seen," May was tucked in a corner by the punching bags, "I put a tray of food in there two days ago. There's a bite taken out of the sandwich and she might have opened the water I left, I'm not really sure, it just disappeared."

"Coulson brought her tea this morning. She drank half of it. Mostly to appease him I think. I mean when I went in there, she practically tore my head off for interrupting her experiment." Tripp had joined their watch party, boosting himself up on the hood of one of the SUVs and regarding Jemma with a mix of emotions.

"I keep hoping she'll just pass out on the work bench, personally." May murmured, casting Simmons an almost motherly look before crossing the hanger to where Coulson was tapping at the computer bank with Koenig the Second.

"Do you have any idea what she's doing in there? I mean, don't you do something biology-y?" Skye leaned against the car next to Triplett who chuckled.

"Field medic doesn't qualify me to do all that much. Gaping abdominal wounds I can handle," He nodded to Skye as he continued, "But this... this is some next level stuff. I mean, Simmons is a biochemist, she's literally a genius. I'm just an Ops guy. Whatever she's doing, it's way beyond anything any of us can even hope to comprehend."

"Fitz would know," Skye sighed, "But then that's why she's doing all this."

Fury's med team had done their damndest to get Fitz's gurney through the hanger and into the infirmary when they first arrived at the Playground, minutes after the Bus had landed, but Simmons had intercepted them and what had followed could only be described as a showdown. By the end of it, Fury's burly medics had run with their tails between their legs after depositing Fitz and his bed in Simmons' lab. She had been a force of nature, bending them to her will and utterly shocking her teammates.

Since then, she had barely left his side. Koenig the Second had tried to drag her out to be re-evaluated but she threw her last lanyard at him, saying if it was good enough for Eric, it had damn well better be good enough for him and that he'd better give her access to the machines or she'd release several nasty strains of staphylococcus infection in his next meal and hold the antibiotics ransom until he granted the access. Needless to say, she had full run of the database within minutes.

"She hasn't said anything about his condition to you, has she?"

Tripp shook his head, "She won't even look me in the eye right now." There was only a hint of self-pity in his voice. Skye winced. She knew he'd started to have feelings for Simmons, had even almost hoped that Simmons reciprocated them at one point. But then everything went sour and Fitzsimmons was... well Fitzsimmons. They didn't function quite as well apart as together.

She patted his arm, there really wasn't much to be said in regards to that situation, and pushed off from the car, "Well someone's gotta do something. Might as well be me."

Simmons didn't notice Skye's entrance, too busy measuring different chemicals and genetic matter into a beaker over a Bunsen burner. She was murmuring to herself and kept glancing at Fitz's prone figure as if hoping he'd respond to anything she was saying.

Of course he didn't. Between the EKG and twenty other wires connecting him to various machines, the sling keeping his broken arm pressed tightly to his side, the copious scrapes across his temple to match Simmons' and intubation tube down his throat, there wasn't much of him to see, save a couple sandy curls.

The lab, which mirrored the usually tidy one on the bus, was in complete disarray. Typed papers of research were strewn on every available surface. Fitz's tools, blue prints, half complete prototypes, and something that looked like a small, stuffed monkey had been pushed off to a counter in the corner, as if Simmons was doing her best to physically compartmentalize anything that had to do with Fitz.

The main part of the lab was taken up by Fitz's hospital bed. Simmons had surrounded it with three work benches, covered in beakers, samples of things Skye wasn't sure she wanted to know what they were, centrifuges, microscopes, even more reams of research, and more scientific equipment than she'd ever seen.

Before Skye could say anything, a handwritten piece of paper among the typed ones caught her eye. Curiosity won out, as it usually did with Skye, and she picked it up. At the top, in Simmons' scribble was one word. WARD. Two underlines. Below it followed a rather graphic list enumerating the ways Simmons was planning making Ward pay for what he'd done to them all. It was hastily written, covered in ink blotches and water stains as if they'd been written in a flurry of fury and an inability to hold back any longer. Several of them raised Skye's eyebrow; Jemma had always been a polite, understanding and kind if panicky constant on the team. On the rare occasion she did have a break in her usual ways, the situation was usually fairly dire. But this list was a whole other side of Simmons that Skye had never imagined.

"This is... something." Skye said aloud, setting the paper back down where she'd seen it and vowing right then and there to never, _ever _get on Simmons' bad side.

The scientist in question jumped away from her work at the sound of Skye's voice and looked around wildly, tugging off her safety glasses as she went.

"Oh, hello Skye, I didn't hear you come in." Her voice was slightly higher than usual and for the first time, Skye actually got a good look at her.

Simmons was usually put together, with her button downs and sweater vests, hair tied back in a perfect pony tail, just a dusting of make-up that one wouldn't notice unless they were looking. But now there was none of that. She'd abandoned the polka-dot button down and cardigan she was wearing when they made it to the Playground in favor of a black v-neck t-shirt and jeans and a slightly oversized zip-up sweatshirt that looked very similar to the ones hanging in Fitz's closet. Her hair was in a sloppy bun at the back of her skull, locks of silky dark hair falling out and framing her pale cheeks. She held her arms carefully away from her sides and moved gingerly, wincing if she leaned over too far or twisted weirdly. Most of her ribs were severely bruised, not that any of them would have known it, had Skye not accidentally walked in on Simmons changing and made a fuss about her mottled blue and purple torso. The bruises on her hands had faded mostly, though those on the left side of her face were still covered in scrapes and turning a strange greenish yellow. That in combination with the deep purple circles beneath her slightly bloodshot hazel eyes made her look much younger than Skye had ever seen.

"What're you up to?" Skye asked, sidling closer to Simmons' work table and leaning against Fitz's bed, propping a hand on his leg.

Simmons turned back to her work after a last hopeful glance at Fitz, "I'm... synthesizing a serum. Sort of reverse engineering... or modifying I should say, the dendrotoxin from the Night-Night Guns seeing as we don't have any more GH-325 though I'm not even sure that would be safe to use if we had any. If I can get the concentration right, it could heal the damage done to his brain and reconnect the damaged neural pathways." She siphoned some burnt orange chemical into the beaker over the Bunsen burner before stirring it and then turning the burner off to pour the solution into four vials.

"What do you mean 'reconnect damaged neural pathways'?" Skye asked, panic clogging her throat as she glanced up at his pale face, fingers unconsciously clenching on the sheet above his leg, "What's wrong with him, how can you know?"

"I don't." Simmons snapped, then seemed to regain control of herself. "At least I don't know the full extent of it. We won't until he wakes up but-" She crossed the lab after slotting the vials into the centrifuge and turning it on, a small needle in hand.

"Sorry, Fitz, I know you hate needles." She murmured before prodding the needle into the hand of his broken arm. Nothing, no reaction whatsoever. Something heavier seemed to drop into the air in the room. As if to prove a point, she pulled it back, swabbed it with an alcohol pad quickly before jabbing it into the palm of his other hand. Not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough for his hand to twitch at the intrusion.

"He moved!" Skye crowed, a smile lighting her face, "That's good, right?"

Simmons returned the smile, more out of courtesy than anything, "Yes. Reaction to physical stimulus is always a good sign but did you see how his other arm didn't react?"

The grin slowly melted from Skye's face, "I thought his arm was just broken. How does that-"

"I believe that his brain injury was severe enough so that all of its power had to be redirected to heal itself, taking away precious resources to heal his arm," Her voice shook and her fingers had clamped themselves into a fist to stop them from doing the same as she went on breathlessly, "Or there is the possibility of localized paralysis due to brain damage or maybe the break was simply that bad and it damaged the nerve endings. It could be shock, his body coping by shutting down the least functional part of him. He said he broke it in the same two places as a child. It's entirely possible that those already damaged nerve endings just couldn't take anymore strain and just shut down It didn't look it on the scans but it's possible that I'm missing something. If he'd just bloody wake up, I'd know how to fix this. He's just being stupid and stubborn like always and I can't..." Skye didn't realize Simmons was crying until a sob cut out the middle of her sentence.

"Oh Simmons, hey." Skye was at her side in a moment, tugging her into a hug. Jemma let herself be held for a moment, not caring that her ribs ached at the contact, simply needing a moment's support, before pushing away gently.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I need to keep working, I'm nearly there." She wiped her face with her sleeve, taking a deep breath before turning back to her microscope.

"Simmons, you've gotta take a break." Skye sighed, putting a hand on her friend's arm to keep her from working.

"No. I can't. I'm so close and then he'll be back and-"

"Do you think this is what he'd want you to be doing? When was the last time you got some sleep? Or ate anything?"

"He'd be doing the exact same if situations were reversed," She stated flatly. The certainty of their mutual devotion, knowing that he needed her, was all that was keeping her going. "And anyway, Agent Coulson brought me a lovely cup of tea this morn-"

"That doesn't count, you only drank half of it." Skye cut in.

Simmons looked surprised, "How did you know that?"

"Tripp."

"Ah. Antoine needn't concern himself with that." Something like guilt clogged her throat, though she couldn't completely understand exactly why. And then she remembered snarling at him when he came in the lab earlier and shame swept through her. Misplacing her anger at herself onto him. He didn't deserve that.

Skye's eyebrows shot up, "Antoine?"

Jemma flushed, "Well that's his name, isn't it?"

"Maybe I read something wrong, but it never seemed like you were as into him as he was into you."

"I... Um... He's not. We... Ant-" She floundered, stammered, got her words in order and then started again, "Agent Triplett is very funny and kind and competent and perfectly symmetrical I mean, very... Well, he's good agent and a good man..."

"But he's not Fitz." Skye cut in, ducking to get Simmons to look her in the face. She was met with tear filled eyes and a gentle nod, causing the wisps of hair around Simmons' face to wave gently.

"He's not Fitz." She drifted to his side, seemingly unconsciously taking his good hand in hers and brushing her fingers through his hair.

"Simmons, what happened in that pod?" She'd been tightlipped about the events, saying only that Fitz had saved them and that Fury had found them floating in the middle of the Atlantic before she sent him to help in New Mexico.

There was a shuddering breath and then she began, "Well. We... Ward was after us and Fitz, he pulled me into the med-pod. Ward kept telling us to come out and Fitz just kept saying no, that this wasn't him, that Ward didn't have to do this, that he cared about us..." She paused as Skye winced. She reached over and squeezed Skye's arm, not knowing how to continue without hurting Skye.

"And then?" Skye bit out, not looking Simmons in the face. Thinking about Ward had made her chest hurt like a sucking cavity had opened up and was going to swallow her whole with grief. She'd trusted him, her SO, her friend, maybe something more... No, better not to think about him. She gave Jemma's hand one last squeeze and then let go.

"Ah well... I don't remember much. We were falling out of the plane and... I must have hit my head or something. Fitz strapped us down somehow and then. I woke up and we were on the floor of the ocean and he was in a sling. Said we were something like ninety feet down and that his arm was broken. We didn't think we were going to make it out but then I realized that polymer of the glue could be burned away so I set up the medical ethanol to burn hotter if we hooked it up to the defibrillator and so the window would cave in and we could swim out.

"He had rigged this mostly empty oxygen tank to give a single burst of air and force it into my chest. And then I realized he only said one breath and I said we needed to come up with a different plan but he kept insisting and then..." She faltered, staring down at her partner, chest heaving painfully, new tears dripping down her porcelain cheeks.

"Simmons?"

"And then I said he was my best friend in the world and he said that I was more than that."

Skye's breath caught and suddenly everything started to make more sense, "Oh my god."

"I... didn't hold it together as well as I should have but then he was pushing the button and it was all I could do to take that breath and haul him out with me. I was so afraid I was going to lose him in the rush of water or get him caught on something. But I was too slow and now he's like this and I can't bloody fix it! He saved my life and I can't even get him to wake up!"

Skye had her tucked in her arms again before all the words were out and for a while they just stood in front of Fitz's bed, arms clamped around one another, rocking.

"You have to know this is not your fault," Skye whispered, "He wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

Jemma squirmed away from her, impatiently brushing away the pieces of hair that stuck in the tear tracks on her cheeks, "It _is_ my fault he's like this. If I'd been faster, it wouldn't even be-"

"No." Skye snapped, grabbing her by the tops of the arms and giving her a little shake, momentarily forgetting about her ribs, "No, this is Ward. He had the chance to keep you both safe, to protect the team and he chose differently. It was his choice to put you two in that situation and it's a miracle you both made it out as unscathed as you are. You saved Fitz. You could have left him in that pod on the ocean floor," Simmons made a noise in her throat, something of a cross between pain and indignation and sought out Fitz's limp hand again but Skye pushed through, "but you didn't. Thanks to you, he has a fighting chance to wake up and keep science-ing with you."

Simmons chuckled wetly, "Science-ing isn't a word."

"Yeah, it is. It's what you guys do when you start bickering about things the rest of us don't understand."

Jemma laughed again and looked down at her partner fondly, "I couldn't have left him there if I wanted to."

"I know." There was silence in the lab, save for the whirring of the centrifuge and the beeps from the machines crowding Fitz's bed.

"Simmons?"

"Hmm?" She managed to tear her eyes away from Fitz for a moment and refocus on Skye.

"When Fitz said that to you. About being more than his best friend. Do you feel the same way?"

Jemma groaned and dropped Fitz's hand, "I don't know. Of course. Of course I love him. He's my best friend, my partner. I've known him longer than anyone else, know him better than anyone else. I can't imagine living without him but... I hadn't ever really considered it being... more than that. He was just... Fitz and now there are... complications and I don't want things to change. Oh god, that's his line, not mine."

"You don't have to be in love with him for him to matter to you though."

Simmons dropped her face into her hands and then winced as she pressed against her cuts, "I know. But... I could... I think I could love him like that. I mean, I know it's a chemical release in the brain but-"

"Love isn't science, Simmons," Skye murmured, "It's not something you can control by injecting some juice into your brain or something."

"Scientifically-"

"Scientifically, nothing. You and Fitz are soulmates," Simmons' heart jumped strangely at the word, "Whether that's as partners or more. That's what you are. And that's more than science."

XXX

In the end and after a good deal of arguing, Skye convinced Simmons to take a break and a shower, before working on her project any more. When she came back, hair still dripping, in an almost identical outfit to the one she'd been wearing before, she found that her lab had been infiltrated. Tripp, May, Coulson, Skye and Koenig were all set up around Fitz's bed, passing cardboard boxes of Chinese take-out between them, with several more boxes waiting, un-opened on a counter. Simmons had no idea how they'd gotten take-out into a super secret SHIELD base but suddenly, she didn't care. Skye waved a container of fried rice at her and it was all she could do not to inhale the entire thing in one go.

Not much was said, but the reassuring presence of their team, their family steadied her somehow and the constant racing of her heard seemed to slow some. Though she still refused to leave the lab for more than a few minutes, she felt more stable. Team dinners in the lab quickly became a regular thing and while it wasn't technically sanitary or safe, the comfort of being together seemed to outweigh any dangerous possibility.

XXX

Fitz woke up five days after the first dinner together, almost literally catapulting himself into consciousness. One moment, there was silence except for the clinking of forks on plates, the free fingers of Simmons' hand wrapped around Fitz's, the next his hand was like a vice around hers and he was sitting up straight, violently coughing and retching against tube in his throat. There was a crash as more than one plate shattered on the floor and Simmons caught his face between her hands, chest expanding with relief as if a rubber band had been snapped off it. _He's alive. He's okay, he's alive._

"Fitz, Fitz, breathe, don't struggle, I just. Hold on." Tripp was already at Fitz's other shoulder, holding him steady as Simmons removed the breathing tube and practically forced him to take a sip of water from her cup.

He spluttered and coughed against it and she put it away quickly, "Sorry, sorry!"

He recovered enough to gasp out her name, a prayer and a curse all at once and then they were both crying, foreheads pressed together, murmuring to one another, Fitz's good hand flitting from her face to her side and back into her hair and down to her waist.

Skye shepherded the rest of the team out when she heard the word, "love" pass between them and watched Simmons press her lips against his forehead, his fingers still knotted in her hair. When the team came back to check on them, what felt like hours later, they found Simmons curled up on her side in the hospital bed next to him, his good hand folded between both of hers and pressed to her chest, their foreheads inches apart.


End file.
